


The Doctor meets Mr. Hyde

by LarGibbon



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Dark, F/M, Gen, Other, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarGibbon/pseuds/LarGibbon
Summary: Lucifer reveals himself as the Devil to his therapist, Dr. Linda. And how does that make him feel?
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Linda Martin & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	The Doctor meets Mr. Hyde

He took a deep breath and held it, allowing the facade of his skin to flicker and vanish like smoke, exposing the raw open wound always present just under the surface. He’d told her, been completely transparent, but there was nothing like the the sting of open air on broken flesh to tell him he’d crossed a line he could never take back. He was the Devil. She couldn’t deny or explain or excuse all he’d told her anymore. Here was proof she couldn’t avoid. He was the monster on which all monsters of myth were based.

He allowed her a moment to look, to be sure she’d seen, before with just a thought, he quickly bound his skin back up to hide behind the dressing of his more familiar face.He offered her a fragile smile, childishly hopeful that she might still see him for who he was despite the enormity of  _what_ he was. She was a doctor... surely she had seen burns? Perhaps she wouldn’t fear or hate him, perhaps the trusting relationship they’d built together over all this time wasn’t due to his superficial charm or her detached psychological assessments, but perhaps it was built on the truth beneath all that; the deeper understanding they shared.

She didn’t scream, that was a small mercy, but the way she looked at him— through him— it was as if she’d never met him; as if all those sins of mankind were his to answer for once again. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes were wide and unfocused. She didn’t move or speak and he knew she’d never see him the same way again; a rejection that stung like salt in a wound that had never healed. Perhaps this was the punishment he’d been looking for.

He sighed, standing from the couch, and walked out, partially closing the door behind him to allow her some privacy while she processed but keeping it slightly ajar so someone would find her if she didn’t move from that spot for too long. It wasn’t her fault. This was an appropriate response to meeting the Devil. He was something disgusting and terrifying to be reviled and cast out, not fit to be accepted and loved. How could he have forgotten?

He valued the truth above all things and yet again he was reminded that nothing hurt more. Perhaps the truth was its own form of torture. He’d allowed her to believe what she wanted all this time because as long as she saw what she wanted, he could pretend that she truly knew and accepted him. Fool.

The Detective had a lot to answer for.

Millennia of pain and pointless, endless suffering. Eons of rejection and villainization and torment had hardened him. He was invincible, hell-forged steel. Yet somehow... the Detective had persuaded him to  _hope_. Hope that maybe this time, he didn’t have to go through this pain alone. He needed a friend more than he had needed one since the fall and now, he had lost the only one he thought capable of truly accepting and maybe even helping him. As usual, the more he tried to reach out, the more alone he felt. What was another rejection on the pile?

This was familiar. This was  _hell._ But it was familiar. He knew to expect the impact after any leap of faith. 

He had spent unfathomable spans of time in hell in isolation and silence, bored out of his bloody mind. On earth, he was never alone. He had someone new in his bed every night and spent his days surrounded by crowds at lux. He knew the feeling of drowning in a boundless ocean of loneliness and the even more painful ache of surfacing to take a desperate, panicked breath before submerging again. So he smoked, he drank, he buried himself in lovers and drugs and every vice he could imagine to mask the profound loneliness that persisted no matter how many humans, demons or angels surrounded him. 

Lucifer was a light suffocating in infinite darkness. He was powerless to end the darkness alone - but he wasn’t one to avoid a fight just because he knew he’d inevitably lose. So he... he made the effort. He lived in the moment and tried to wring every last drop of pleasure from whatever he was doing, be it torture in hell or fulfilling desire at lux. He took vacations from hell even knowing he’d be cast back down. He went to therapy, for Dad’s sake!

Well, and that was the problem. He went to therapy. In such a short time, Linda had showed him that he didn’t have to be lonely if he could open up and examine old wounds and make honest connections with people instead of the same kind of soulless contact he’d had with half- ok,  most \- of LA. 

So that’s what he was doing, now, he was trying to connect. Still, after all this time. He opened himself up after eons of those superficial encounters and exclusively painful family relationships. And... he hurt her. Maybe even... broke her. At the very least, he lost her. He still needed her and he  _lost_ her. He expected it on some level but he didn’t expect it to hurt so much more now than any of the heartbreaks and betrayals and losses he’d experienced since The Fall. If she couldn’t accept him, how could he expect anyone to? How could he expect the Detective...? 

Perhaps it wasn’t in the cards for him. Perhaps he should just accept that pain and rejection were essential parts of his life; his gift from Dad. Perhaps no one had ever been hurt as much as the Devil himself. 

Yet still... he hoped.

And for that? He could only blame  _ her_.


End file.
